


Matchmaking in Savage Land

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Identity Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Steve got hurt when he was protecting Iron Man.Tony Stark is really upset about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MassiveSpaceWren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MassiveSpaceWren/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [Matchmaking in Savage Land](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10261085) by [Celeste_030](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celeste_030/pseuds/Celeste_030)



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY WREN!!! MANY GREAT FANDOMS AND ALL THE IDENTITY PORN YOUR BIRB HEART DESIRES.
> 
> (doubling as a fill for my stony bingo card, N5--Steve in chainmail protecting Tony)
> 
> There's a Chinese translation available [here](http://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404062720637945012) or [here](http://www.mtslash.org/thread-220694-1-1.html). Thanks to [celestewuu](http://celestewuu.tumblr.com/)!

Steve hissed in pain, ineffectively pulling at his uniform.

"Careful now," Iron Man said, stilling Steve's hand. His gauntlet was a warm touch on Steve's wrist. "You'll make it worse."

Steve sighed, but didn't push him away. After a moment, Iron Man moved his hand up, to Steve's shoulder. Steve tensed, and Iron Man pulled away immediately. Steve's blood was barely visible on his red gauntlet. In the sharp sun, it looked almost like another layer of paint.

"Wasp should come by with the jet soon," Iron Man said. "In the meanwhile, we can try to get you out of your chain mail."

"Provided nothing else attacks us."

Iron Man shrugged. "I'll protect you," he offered. It sounded weirdly serious for something Steve was sure was supposed to be a joke. 

"I know you will, Shellhead," he answered, because it seemed important. 

That didn't mean he particularly wanted to get shirtless in Savage Land. Still, Iron Man was right: the chain mail was just pulling on Steve's injury, and it wasn't doing any job stopping the bleeding. 

Iron Man fiddled with his armour, finally pulling out a tightly wrapped white package out of his wrist compartment. It looked like envelope. "Some bandages," he explained to Steve's questioning gaze. "The wrapping is sterile. As long as my armour is undamaged, at least."

Steve hadn't thought Iron Man would have it, but now it seemed so obvious. He always seemed to want to take everything on himself, on account on him having the armour while no one else did. 

"Okay," Steve said. "You clearly want to play the nurse."

"And you're as terrible a patient as usual," Iron Man agreed. "Raise your hand as high as you're able to."

Steve did.

"Ah," Iron Man said. "Not very high." 

_You don’t say_ , Steve thought. It did hurt. He knew his movements were limited.

Iron Man looked at Steve, looked down, looked back at Steve.

"Well," he said. "I think I’ll need finer control."

And then he pulled off his gauntlets.

Steve stared.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Iron Man with various parts of his armour off—never the helmet, obviously, the one constant—when it’d been damaged, or he'd had to fix something—but never this up close. Never when Steve could actually see small scars on Iron Man’s fingers or the way his nails were carefully trimmed. His lower wrists were uncovered, now, thin but strong. Steve wanted to wrap his hands around them.

This wasn’t about it, he told himself firmly.

"Okay. Cap? Steve? You with me?" Iron Man was asking. "I’m going to pull off your chain mail now."

Steve nodded. Iron Man deftly put his fingers under the hem of Steve’s mail and lifted it carefully over his head. Steve could only wistfully think this wasn’t how he wanted Iron Man to undress him for the first time.

Then the wave of cool air hit him, and he shivered. He glanced at his shoulder—it was sticky with blood, but the gash was wider rather than deeper, he’d probably be fine waiting for the quinjet. It seemed like Iron Man needed to do something to help, though.

Steve sat very still as Iron Man applied a clean dressing to his wound. 

"All done," Iron Man said at last. "We’ll get you properly treated back at the mansion."

"Thank you," Steve said. 

"Least I could do," Iron Man replied. "Listen, Cap—"

Steve was pretty sure what Iron Man was about to say, and he started shaking his head before Iron Man could finish his sentence. "Nope," he said. "We’re superheroes, and we’re teammates. It’s a calculated risk."

"I have an armour," Iron Man said flatly.

"You were knocked down. You’ll forgive me if I didn’t want to see your armour tested against an angry, Savage Land-mutated T-Rex."

He could see from the set of his shoulders that Iron Man was about to argue more, but then the telltale sound of engines reached them, and the quinjet set down in front of them. 

"You’d have done the same for me," Steve said just before the trapdoor opened to let them in.

Iron Man radiated quiet disapproval at Steve’s back.

***

Iron Man disappeared as soon as they got back to the mansion, Steve’s chain mail still clutched in his hands, so it was Hank who looked at Steve’s shoulder and pronounced it fine as long as Steve didn’t overextend himself. Steve didn’t have any such plans, obviously, so he let Hank apply a clean bandage, and then set out to look for Iron Man. They really should finish that conversation.

The one place to start would be asking Tony Stark. 

***

Steve knocked on the door of Tony’s workshop. It slid open almost immediately, letting him in. 

Tony was leaning over a table with Steve’s uniform spread on, his fingers touching to the torn gashes. He was wincing.

"Sorry about that," Steve said. 

Tony looked up at him, incredulously. "What for?"

Steve shrugged. "Adding to your work pile." He pointed at the costume. Tony looked tired already, pale and with black circles under his eyes. Steve knew that running his company was taxing, but Tony never complained, and he took it on himself to equip all the Avengers. Steve wasn’t sure when he was getting any rest, but by the looks of it—rarely.

It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to him, but trying to take it up with Tony had never led anywhere, so Steve bit his tongue and didn’t say anything.

He already knew his talk with Iron Man had to wait. He didn’t like to see Tony this way and didn’t like leaving him alone like it. 

"Adding to my work pile," Tony repeated.

Steve had told him a million times he could damn well sew his costume back together—as far as it wasn’t totally shredded, Steve could deal with it. But Tony always waved him off. So what was he going off about now?

"Well, it’s not like I put myself in front of that T-Rex on purpose!" Steve said.

"Oh, but you did, saving my life!" Tony snapped finally. 

There was a moment of silence when neither of them realised what exactly Tony had just said.

"—Iron Man’s life," Tony corrected himself lamely, but it was too late, and he clearly knew it. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing fast, as if he was panicking.

Steve didn’t pay him any attention.

So many things suddenly started making sense, in retrospection, that he was only surprised he hadn’t guessed at the truth himself, before.

Maybe he’d just wanted to trust his friends. Friend. Singular. As in, one person.

Iron Man, Tony Stark.

Steve slowly shook his head. "Your life," he repeated. "Shellhead."

Now that he looked, it really was obvious. Tony’s thin, elegant wrist, his hands scarred from soldering and welding, and still taken care for, because he was a businessman, too. The dark shadows under his eyes, because Tony wasn’t just running his company and financing the Avengers, no, he was also an Avenger. 

God.

How could Steve have missed it?

"Is this where you tell me to get out," Tony said, and it didn’t sound like a question.

"Because you were lying to all of us for years?" Steve asked. "It—I’m not going to pretend I like it, but we agreed to keep our private lives private."

Tony huffed a laugh. "No, because I’m—" He gestured down on himself, as if that explained everything.

"Handsome, genius, and charismatic?" Steve ventured. He maybe shouldn’t have said that, but he was hurt and short on his nerves anyway, and the revelation about Tony’s identity, Iron Man’s identity, was doing weird things to him, pulling on threads he’d buried deep down years ago.

But they were one person.

Tony was staring at him unhappily now. "You don’t have to mock me," he said. "I get it. I’m fucked up, and I lied, and I got you hurt just today, and—"

Steve needed to be alone. He needed to think, on his own, to process it all. But he knew how Tony would take it if he left now.

He knew a whole lot of things about Tony, suddenly, and about Iron Man, in return.

"And just yesterday, you saved my life," Steve said. "And countless times before that. You’re—you’re my best friend, and the bravest man I know, and a genius, and a successful CEO—"

"Right—" Tony interrupted.

Steve spoke right over him. "My best friend," he repeated, "and I wanted to—I don’t know, Tony, I wanted to kiss you for years, I'd wanted to touch Iron Man for longer than that, and I felt so guilty—"

"Iron Man wouldn’t mind," Tony said, sounding dizzy. "Nor Tony Stark, as it is."

"Yes," Steve said drily. "I’m getting that."

Except he wasn’t, he really didn't get anything at all here, because did Tony just say what Steve thought he’d said?

There wasn’t time to think, though: Tony, ever so mindful, put his hand on Steve’s healthy shoulder, and leant up the one inch separating them to press his lips to Steve's.

It was a chaste kiss, just a touch of lips, but it was enough to make Steve feel like he was drunk. 

"Wow," he said, and caught Tony by his elbow before Tony could move away. "This will need some getting used to."

Tony, who’d just kissed him, suddenly looked shy. "Of the good kind?" he asked, as if that needed asking.

Steve forgot all about his aching shoulder, high on endorphins. "Let me count," he said. "My best Avenger friend who is really one person with my best civilian friend just kissed me after I’d fantasized about it for years." He grinned. "The best kind," he said, and then he leant down to kiss Tony back.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic also has a [tumblr post](https://laireshi.tumblr.com/post/155690746492/matchmaking-in-savage-land).


End file.
